Read Online Crusade of Tears: A Novel of the Children's Crusade by C. D. Baker - Free Book Online Page B

and tarried to behold the splendor of Villmar’s valley sprawling before. “Look!” Karl pointed. “I’ve never seen it so glorious.” Indeed, the day had presented the humble abbey in peculiar magnificence. The edifice was draped with handsome pennants of purple, red, and yellow. Standards bearing the Lord of Runkel’s crest formed a colorful corridor leading to the opened oak doors of the western gate where trumpeters welcomed approaching knights and noblemen. It was as if the ancient edifice had been suddenly transformed by some miraculous Craftsman into the Holy City of the promised New Jerusalem!
    Something good is afoot, thought Karl. This place has n’er looked so. He smiled at his fellows, and, despite their deformities, broken teeth, and tattered clothing he was certain he could see the radiance of God’s face shining upon each of them this blessed day. Rumors continued to abound, among them one that either a papal legate or His Grace, the Archbishop Siegfried III of Mainz, was preparing to deliver a call of Crusade. Karl nearly burst keeping his secret. And, inside the abbey walls, a great assembly of noblemen and lords had supposedly gathered to pledge their unity in the Empire’s civil war. The lords and their archbishop welcomed the prospect of victory and of the new lands it would proffer, and the Sabbath seemed a logical time for them to further bind their mutual ambitions.
    The abbey’s gate was soon clogged with throngs of folk funneling through and squeezing past each other until they spilled into the filling courtyard. As Karl pressed his way toward the church, excitement chased chills up his spine. He held Maria’s right hand tightly and looked desperately for a good vantage. He hoped so very much to be able to see through the church’s thick-glassed windows and gaze upon the sacred pedestal from which the message would be delivered.
    Welcomed by piercing blasts from trumpeters positioned neatly along the top of the wall, a contingent of knights arrived and charitably maneuvered their steeds through the crowded gateway and into the courtyard. Their swords gleamed at their sides; their high, black boots shined in the summer sun; their gray, mail shirts were graced by flowing capes boldly bearing the colors and insignia of their lord. These men were sworn to support the pope in his claim for young Friederich II (son of the deceased emperor, Heinrich VI) to be Emperor of the Holy Empire, against his rival, Otto of Brunswick. Many proudly boasted bandaged wounds as evidence of their fealty. Others, fresh from the wars near Leipzig, brandished the colors of the vanquished Slavs and brandished their bedecked halberds and maces to the cheers of comrades within.
    The long trumpets blew seven short blasts as a silent procession of ecclesiastics humbly entered the church. In the fore were the Archbishop of Mainz and an honorary legate from the Archbishop of Cologne, followed in close order by the entourage of clerks and priests. Behind these shuffled a column of shaved crowns in dark habits, the abbey’s own Benedictines, led by the abbot, Udo, and in the rear, the archbishop’s four parish priests, including Father Pious.
    Karl joined his peasant brothers and sisters in bended knee, reverently and obediently offering due homage. The courtyard was silent and solemn, save the snorting of impatient horses in the grip of groomsmen and the peal of the great bell in the church tower. A brief gust of wind snapped the flags of Runkel and posed a fitting flourish for the column of cives and milites which then began their grand march.
    In the fore strutted Lord Heribert himself, decorated like a peacock in full gloat. His ankle-length cloak was of the finest blue velvet, and silver hooks bound with satin cord laced his proud chest. A puffed, red-otter hat sat atop his shoulder-length waved hair, and sported a silver brooch. At his left strolled his fair wife, Christine. Eager for accolades and most deserving,